


Tender, Loving Care

by bellaaanovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Fluff, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a little Bad Boys-verse I wrote the day after the episode came on considering there were parts of the episode that just ripped my little Wincest heart apart.<br/>Warning says underage, but there's nothing past kissing :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender, Loving Care

Walking away from Sonny’s was the hardest thing Dean Winchester ever had to do. His whole life he has been looking out for his little brother, fuck, he was thrown in here because of it. Robin was so important; she was special, but Sam was the most important goddamn person in his life. Seeing him obliviously wait for him in the Impala made him realize it.

 

Dean grabbed the few clothes he had and shoved them into a backpack, and gave Sonny one last quick hug goodbye before he lost it. He practically ran to the Impala and stopped as he barely noticed Sam standing outside of the beloved car, playing with his fingers, staring at the ground, and kicking his feet around in the gravel. Dean wanted to pick him up and spin him around – _and kiss him –_ but he had to be cool. Sonny wouldn’t be watching, but his father would be. He probably is. Dean cleared his throat and firmly stepped closer to Sam.

 

“You gotta look a guy in the eyes when you’re around ‘em so they can trust you. C’mon, Sammy, you know better,” Dean said every word with a humor and with a smile, and was utterly relieved when Sam’s head jolted up at the sound of his name.

“ _Dean!_ ” His brother jumped – really, honest to God jumped – into his arms and Dean took the opportunity, hoisting him up into a long hug. Sam’s giggle when the older Winchester snuck a kiss to his neck was absolutely _priceless_. “Missed you.”

 

As Dean opened his mouth to reply, his dad honked the horn again and he reluctantly dropped Sam, helping him into the backseat before climbing in with him.

“Dean. You sit in the front seat like a man does.” His dad’s booming voice shook the world like it always did. Dean wanted to protest; he wanted to scream and cry about how he hasn’t seen his Sammy in two months and he needed to be close to him, needed to hold him and know he was there.

 

However, Dean was a good soldier and he obeyed.

 

Hesitantly, he squeezed Sam’s hand and got into the front seat. His father didn’t ask how his stay was. He didn’t ask if he made any friends or how he was doing. He didn’t ask if he learned a valuable lesson not to steal or play pool with scumbags. He didn’t ask why Dean was wearing a button up shirt and tie, and he didn’t ask who the girl was in the picture he was holding.

 

He just tuned the static radio to a classic rock station and drove.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The Impala made it to Portland, Oregon within a day and a half. There was a salt and burn in a house in the suburbs, and his dad took Dean with him. He was out of practice and his dad knew that. It didn’t stop him from exploding in the car because Dean got thrown around and beat to hell by a ghost. His arm got torn open – a vertical stripe down the top of his forearm – with a nail, and rather than helping him, his dad wrapped an old flannel around it and told him to “ _hold on”_ until they returned to the motel.

 

Once Dean walked in holding his arm, he automatically noticed Sam’s normally happy face grow pale, and he rushed towards him. Not five minutes after arriving, his dad left the motel _again_ to go to a bar or something. Dean sat down at the small, round table attempting to examine the damage.

 

“Don’t touch it,” He heard Sam say. “Let me find the first aid kit – It’s here somewhere, I remember, Dad didn’t bring it on this hunt in case I hurt myself – oh! There it is!” Sam pulled the plastic, white box from under one of the beds and ran to Dean, gently placing the box on the table and opening it.

 

Sam was an excellent cleaner-upper. He had so much time at the libraries and the motels, he taught himself how to clean, stitch, and dress a wound, along with CPR and other safety precautions. Dean hesitantly removed the shirt from his arm. There was blood _everywhere_ and the cut went almost to his elbow from his wrist. He’s seen worse, hell, he’s had worse. Sam swallowed before sliding plastic gloves onto his hands and picking at his wound.

 

“There’s a lot of blood, but it didn’t go to the bone or even the muscle… It just cut through skin – how did it happen?”

“Rusty nail.” Dean scoffed. He hated spirits. Temperamental sons of bitches.

“There’s no sign of the rust in your cut – that’s good… Um, does it hurt right… now?” Sam gently pushed on the skin around the wound and Dean barely felt it.

“Could hardly feel it, Sammy.”

“Swollen. It’s numb ‘c-‘cause it’s swollen,” Sam threaded the needle. “Means it’ll hardly hurt when I stitch you up.”

 

Sam’s hands worked precisely and carefully. Every minute he asked if it hurt, and asked for an update on how it felt. Dean couldn’t even _answer_ once considering he was so intrigued with Sam. That kid deserves so much better than this life.

 

They both did.

 

~*~*~*~

 

That night, Dean’s dad didn’t come home until two in the morning, and by that time Sam and Dean were already in bed and already kissing and holding each other, whispering promises and terms of endearment.

 

Dean was sixteen. His father was, sooner or later, going to forbid them from sleeping in the same bed – _and treat Dean like the man he is._ When he cowered over Sammy, who, by now, was sleeping soundly, and heard his cad open the door, clumsily lock it, and fumble into bed, Dean forgot about everything and was just relieved that night wasn’t tonight.


End file.
